What Was Your First Big Trip?

When first read the question, I thought I had just shared the answer in the previous story about where I went on vacation as a child. I started wondering if I will have to select a different question, or see if I can remember more about the trip to Iowa. After thinking about it for some time, I recalled I made an even bigger and earlier trip during my summer between first and second grades. The year was 1960, and I was 6-years old.

I had finished my first year at Lineweaver Elementary School, and I was out for the summer. Little did I know that my life was going to change drastically. Since my parents thought we were going to be gone for a long time, they rented out our home on 17th Street. I remember nothing about the people who were going to stay in our home and use our stuff while we were gone. Actually, I didn’t know that the place was rented until much later.

Tucson was a growing town. Our home was about two blocks east of Alvernon and seven blocks north of 22nd Street. The address is 4056 E. 17th Street, and it was directly north of Victor and Florence Lukas’ home at 4053 E. Montecito. Florence later died in 1971 and then Vic married my mother in 1972, almost a year after I was married. During my early years at Lineweaver, the streets in our neighborhood were paved, but 22nd Street east of Alvernon was a dirt road.

This trip was going to be my very first airplane ride. I remember little about packing, leaving the house, or getting to the airport; but I recall some highlights and how they felt.

Back in 1960, the Tucson airport was called the Tucson Municipal Airport. It wasn’t until two-years later that it became known as the Tucson International Airport because the US Customs Federal Inspection Station opened in order to serve flights from Mexico. In 1960, only two companies offered air service. They were American Airways and Trans World Airlines, which only came to Tucson that year. Next year, Frontier Airlines would start serving Tucson. It is amazing that Tucson even had an airport because the population was a little over 200,000.

I don’t know if we took American or TWA. We had to walk across the tarmac to get into the plane. It was extremely hot. To me, the plane seemed huge. I remember four giant propellers. Once on the plane, we were shown our seats by a beautiful stewardess. I really don’t remember if my mother was with us. My recollection is of just Daddy and me in the plane. I’m not sure how Mother got to Rochester. She must have gone because they rented out our house. Maybe she took another plane or maybe she drove so that we had a car. I don’t know.

The stewardess made sure that I was settled and buckled up. I felt so excited and marveled at everything around me. I remember we were dressed in our best clothes. Daddy had on a shirt and tie, and I had on my best dress and my Buster Brown black patent leather Mary Janes. To me, everyone appeared fancy and dressed up.

Not too long later, the engines growled, and the plane slowly moved, first backing up, making a sharp turn, and continued to move into place and then just sat. It seemed like a long time to me. Then the engines rumbled louder and louder until it was a huge cacophonous roar. It was so deafening; I covered my ears with my hands. Then the plane moved, at first slowly, but then it got faster and faster. I was afraid and exhilarated at the same time. The wheels on the tarmac felt stiff and rough and jostled the plane some. I know Daddy was in pain because of his illness, but he didn’t cry out like he did when Mother would hit a bump while driving. Then he would yell at her as if she did it on purpose. He would yell at her to stop aiming for the bumps.

As the plane reached its top land speed, the acceleration pushed me back against my chair so hard that I felt immobile. Then, for just for a second or two, the pressure just evaporated. I felt like I was floating. Now I realize that my body had caught up with the plane. Then the wheels were no longer touching the earth. We were airborne. I remember my ears hurting so badly Daddy told me to yawn. That helped a little.

Once we were well on our way, the stewardesses would bring us our meals. We could choose what we wanted from a menu. The food was served like we were at a lavish restaurant, on real porcelain plates, with real silverware, and glassware. I have since learned that everything was included in the ticket’s price. I thought the food was delicious, almost as good as my mother’s cooking. That was probably one of the last years that airlines served food like a fine restaurant. After the widespread adoption of jets later in the 1960s, flights didn’t take as long, and no longer had enough time to eat elaborate meals.

Obviously, we arrived at our destination. I didn’t know where I was. I just remember that when we got out of the plane, the weather was much cooler than in Tucson. I was very glad that Daddy made me put on my sweater. When I was much older, after my daddy had passed away, I learned we had been in Rochester, Minnesota. We went because Daddy had several appointments at the Mayo Clinic. They were going to give him a complete workup to see what could be done for his Rheumatoid Arthritis and for his cancer.

The next thing I do remember is being back in Tucson. I don’t know how long we were in Rochester. I didn’t know that the reason we went was for Daddy to go to the clinic, nor what happened. All I remember was now we were in Tucson; but we couldn’t go home. I was told much later that the reason we could not was because we came back home much earlier than expected. Mother thought we might be in Rochester for so long that I would take the second grade there. We came home early because the doctors could not help Daddy at all. They told him to go home and enjoy whatever he could in the time that he had left. The best doctors in the world couldn’t do anything to help him.

Obviously, we needed a place to stay. My mother found a house on Tanque Verde Road.

Writing these stories has led to me conduct research; which I am finding to be very helpful, enjoyable, and enlightening.

I remember the house on Tanque Verde was part of a large complex of single dwelling homes. A small local market, on Tanque Verde Road, hid the house. It was about a block away from the Tanque Verde Elementary School, that was on the southeast corner of East Tanque Verde Road and North Tanque Verde Loop Road. The place where the Emily Gray Junior High School is now located, and the address is 11150 E. Tanque Verde Road.

I have since learned that the name of the neighborhood store was the Hidden Valley Market located Rt. 2, Box 779. The market was owned by Harold J. Ouderkirk, and they rented the house to my parents. Later, the market’s address was changed to 11050 E. Tanque Verde Road. The business now located there is the Tanque Verde Hay and Feed Supply. Just to the west of the store is a sign for Appleby’s Ornamental Iron. Next to that sign is a dirt road that leads to the Appleby’s store. Driving down that road, I recently learned I had actually found the place where I lived for most of my time during the Second Grade. I remembered the houses. They were painted a pale yellow, tan, or cream. The top two-thirds had vertical wooden paneling and the bottom third was a block wainscoting joined by a dark brown horizontal wooden strip.

When I found the Ouderkirk name in my research, I remembered it immediately. They had a pretty daughter that was much older than me. She was blonde and was in High School. Her cat had kittens and I could play with them whenever I wanted.

I would walk to school through an empty lot that was east of the house. I easily recall my time at Tanque Verde Elementary School. My teacher was Mrs. Luthy, and she took a special interest in me. It was there I broke my ankle playing on the monkey bars. I dropped to the ground and broke the ankle clean through the growth center. The doctor was very concerned because of that type of break. He refused to allow me to put any weight on it because of complications, so no heel attached to the cast’s bottom. I had to use crutches to get everywhere. Of course, after a couple of days, my underarms were very sore.

It was also the time I got my very first record player. The top cover was red and white candy-stripes and the bottom was all red. I think I got the record player because I couldn’t go outside and play very much because of the ankle. I would play records all the time. I had a couple of my own records to play. One had Donald Duck singing “Hail, Hail the Gang’s All Here” and “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.” Sometimes I think Daddy got exhausted hearing those songs over and over.

After spending five out of six periods at Tanque Verde Elementary School, the renters left our house and we moved back home. I returned to Lineweaver Elementary School on S. Bryant, for just the sixth and final period. It turns out that Tanque Verde was a much better school than Lineweaver, because I was way ahead in the workbooks. I was so bored for several weeks while the other students caught up with me.

Thus, my first big trip filled with many unforgettable firsts: my first time on a plane, the first time I left Tucson, my first—and only—visit to Minnesota, my first experience attending a different school, my first broken bone, my first time using crutches, my first record player, and the first time I realized my daddy would not live forever.